I called at Guildford Street as I went to the hospital, and they hadn't heard of you."

"Yes, I was obliged to come here first," said Clive.

"Of course. That's right. Janet has been looking pale since you went.

Come and dine to-night, and don't let me come in here and catch you behaving in that rude way again."

"Papa, for shame!" cried Janet, and she hurried out of the room.

The Doctor laughed.

"Well," he cried eagerly, "what about the mine?--is it good?"

"For your ears only, Doctor," said Clive, "in confidence?"

"On my honour, my dear boy," said Dr Praed gravely.

"Then you may invest as much as you like, sir."

"Not a company dodge?"

"The mine teems with ore, sir. I have thoroughly examined it, and found out a new, enormously rich lode."

"Then it's quite safe?"

"Safe as the Bank of England, sir, and the dad will be a millionaire."

"Ah! I wish he would be a healthy man, instead of a wealthy," said the Doctor.

"Oh, you don't think--you have not found him worse?"

"I don't like his looks, Clive, my boy," said the Doctor; "and I beg that you will try to save him from all emotion. This great accession of wealth will do him no good, and--yes; what?--I didn't ring."

"Messenger, sir," said the Doctor's man, with grave earnestness and a sharp glance at Clive. "From Mr Reed's, sir--sudden attack, and will you come at once." Then in a hurried whisper, "Dying!"

But it sounded in trumpet-tones in Clive Reed's ear, as with a sharp cry he sprang to his feet.

"Good heavens!" he said, "and I came on here!"

"Hush!" said the Doctor sternly. "Here, Morgan, the carriage?"

"At the door, sir."

The Doctor nodded as he drew Clive's arm through his own.

"Do not fear the worst," he whispered; "I may save him yet."

CHAPTER NINE.

TWO DAYS EARLIER.

"Well, what news?" said Wrigley, as Jessop Reed entered his gloomy office. "Bah! what a dandy you are! Why, you spend enough on barbers and b.u.t.tonholes to keep you from borrowing money."

"And you spend enough on ballet-girls to keep you from making profits by lending," retorted Jessop. "All right, my Jonathan," said Wrigley.

"All right, my David," replied Jessop. "Let me see: David was a Jew."

"Whilst I am not," said Wrigley sharply.

"Oh, of course not. No one would suppose Wrigley to be an Israelitish name. There, don't set up all your feathers, man, and look so indignant because I suggested that you belonged to the chosen race. There are good Jews."

"And precious bad Christians," said Wrigley sourly.

"Awfully! But I say, don't be so ruffled, man. Lucky I didn't come for some hard coin this morning."

"It is; and hang me if I ever lend you money again if I've to have blood thrown in my face."

"Bah! you shouldn't be so sensitive about it. I don't mind about your descent."

"Enough to make any man sensitive. Gad, sir, any one would think we were lepers, seeing the treatment we receive."

"Yes, it's too bad," said Jessop soothingly; "but you do have your recompense, old man. Nice refined revenge your people have had for the insult and contempt they have met with. There, let's talk business."

"Yes, let's talk business. Now, then, what about the hole in the earth down which people throw their money?"

"Well, it's a big hole."

"Yes, I know that, but is it a big do after all?"

"No. As I told you, the old man wouldn't have gone in for it if it hadn't been right."

"Then he really does hold a great deal in it?"

"More than half, that I know of."

"You've carefully made sure of that."

"Yes, carefully. It's all right, I tell you."

"Good! And what about the dear brother?"

"He's still down there."

"Surveying the mine?"

"Surveying? He has been down it every day for nearly a week, examining every crack and corner--adit, winze, shaft, driving, all the whole lot of it."

"Well?"

"He sends reports to the old man every night."